


Fading Cruelty

by IsobelSionisFalcone



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Ex-Legion Lanius, F/M, Pregnancy, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 20:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsobelSionisFalcone/pseuds/IsobelSionisFalcone
Summary: Caesar would die and there would be no one capable of replacing him. His men follow him, she said, not his ideals. The Legion will fall. The Courier and her child would not. It was for him to decide which corner he wished to defend





	Fading Cruelty

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what my obsession is with F:NV characters having kids, but here you go!

It would complicate things, he'd said. A dying leader who could not be replaced was complication enough, but the Courier was determined to make it ever more so. Not that the growing human inside her was entirely her fault. Half him, half her. He felt fear for the first time when she'd broken the news.

"Screw him," Moira said and his head snapped up. "Let him die. Better yet, let me kill him."

Her pregnancy had made her determined because now, it wasn't just her and him. It was them.

Lanius protested, but she stood her ground. They were better off without him, the Legion would break apart when Caesar's brain was crushed, overwhelmed by the tumor. This was blasphemy, the Legate accused. Inevitability, Moira told him. Caesar would die and there would be no one capable of replacing him. His men follow him, she said, not his ideals. The Legion will fall. The Courier and her child would not. It was for him to decide which corner he wished to defend.

He wondered if she would have been able to sway him had she not been with his child.

Eventually, Lanius agreed and so, a plan was devised. She would deliberately botch the surgery while the Legate was away. Less chance of him being implicated. When he died, she would open fire. With Med-X and plenty of Stimpaks, along with her Gatling, she was confident she would survive. Lanius was not convinced, but to fret was not in his nature. He let Moira go ahead with her plan while he waited in the Lucky 38. His new home.

After hours of unease churning his gut, gripping his blade and pacing the suites, Moira appeared, victorious. Bloodied, bruised, beaten, smiling. High on a adrenaline, she was elated, only greeting him with a dazed "fuck" as her eyes glittered. She hadn't meant it like that, but her heaving chest made Lanius' cock twitch.

He carried her to the bed, tore off her armour, then his own, and buried his cock in her hot, slick womanhood. Moira cried his name, clawed at his broad shoulders and convulsed around his hard, thick length. Lanius made her climax again, plowing her into the mattress before he spilled himself inside her. They were sated, but the tension in the air was still electrifying.

The Legate caught sight of his seed running from the juncture of her thighs as he rose. He suggested they clean off, Moira still bearing the blood of her enemies like war paint on her cheeks, neck and hands. She directed him towards the showers and the pleasure of hot running water soothed them both. With a tenderness that was entirely alien to him, Lanius smoothed the water over her dark tendrils, combing the dried red specks from her scalp. Large hands caressed the Courier's face as he rubbed away the streaks of dirt and blood, a new gentleness to mark the beginning of something else, although quite what, he could not explain. The start of this life, perhaps? A life in which his only worries were Moira and his yet unborn child. Or it might have been the start of their freedom. Lanius was no longer second in command, no longer expected to commit atrocities to uphold his reputation. He was, for the first time in living memory, the master of his own fate.

After he had ensured Moira was cleansed of any traces of battle, she rewarded his newfound tenderness with a soft kiss to his lips. They did not usually kiss like that, his beard making her skin tingle. Most encounters had been hot, lust-fuelled sessions that left no room for any kind of slow exploration. Now, they were alone. Solid walls and closed showers were a far cry from what Lanius was accustomed to, but rather than make him nervous, it served to fuel a desire to touch, to pleasure her in ways he had not before.

Those large hands cupped warm, rounded breasts, nipples stiffening with light pinches and pulls as he sought to find the pressure she liked most. Her head fell back and she moaned when he gave a harder tweak and he knew she would not always want him to be gentle, but for now, he was content to take his time.

Wandering fingers slid down her abdomen, tested the feel of her hips against his palms, and when his touch dipped between Moira's legs, he was pleased to find her slick and wanting. He didn't usually bother attending to her various erogenous zones, focused on the tightening in his balls and the way her cries pierced the air, but this was different. Their heads were fogged, the gathering steam making it more difficult to breathe as he found her clit and she melted in his arms.

"Lanius..." she purred, a sound of pure satisfaction he'd never heard her make before now.

The Legate watched crystalline droplets of water cascading over her shoulders and breasts as the fingers of one hand rolled a taut nipple, the other making tight circles on her swollen bud. Moira gasped, hips bucking into his touch as she grasped his waist (he was too tall for her to reach for his shoulders comfortably) and he penetrated her with one finger first, then two, sinking them right down to the knuckle and her knees almost gave out.

After Lanius was satisfied with the stretch in her, he lifted Moira so that their hips were level and he was strong enough to hold her with one arm, pinning her wrists to the tiled wall with the other. Never before had he been concerned with the pleasure of any of his bed partners, but now that he could access her neck, he set about leaving marks with tongue and teeth. The moans she gave stoked liquid fire in his groin.

As he lowered her onto his length, pausing when she tensed until she grew more comfortable, he felt a strange bliss that he'd never felt before. On the battlefield, he felt satisfaction when he decapitated an enemy. This was a different sensation. Enjoyment, almost, but with a touch of uncertainty. Lanius was unsure of what he wanted. The life behind him was gone. It was going to take some time for him to settle into this new one.

They fucked slowly, Lanius mouthing her throat as Moira cried gently into the steam. Her eyes were screwed shut and, despite the pace, the deep, thrumming pleasure brought her to a climax three times before he reached his.

Afterwards, he panted against her neck and Moira clung to him, her legs aching and heart still pounding. After the tremors within them both subsided, they scrubbed clean, dragging a soapy sponge over each other in turn before drying off and going to bed. Lanius lay back on soft pillows, Moira's head resting against his chest as she slept soundly. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering what to do with his skills, his mighty reputation now that Caesar was dead. Plenty of profligates to kill in the wasteland, of course. The Fiends posed tempting targets, as did the Powder Gangers. Plenty of Deathclaws north of Lake Mead, or so he'd heard.

 

After three months, Moira's stomach was rounded and she has been forbade from leaving the Strip. Lanius took care of business, if it involved fighting. She handled the politics, although the Legate liked to be there, an intimidating presence to ward off those who would seek to do her (them) harm.

At six months, she was confined to the Lucky 38. Lanius had found he liked to shower with her, ensuring she didn't slip as well as keeping her company in the long evenings when the sounds of Vegas nearly tempted her outside. She was vulnerable, he reminded her. He realised that he was, too.

At the end of the eighth month, Lanius hardly left her side. He stuck to her more determinedly than her own shadow and sometimes she laughed, sometimes she kissed him, sometimes she remained silent to contemplate how much she loved him. He wasn't much for idle conversation, but his presence was soothing, a welcome body in her otherwise lonely world. He'd hold her at night, comb through her hair with his fingers, reminding himself that he was human, rather than a monster. Not soft, but human.

 

Then, Aelia was born. Eyes startlingly blue, she looked so much like Lanius that it was frightening. She was his as well as Moira's. It hit him hard just then, as he looked upon this tiny life, that he was cruel and, as she slept in her mother's arms, swaddled in blankets, he was missing the pride that he'd always held for his own barbarity.

For an entire week, he would not touch Aelia. Lanius was terrified of his own strength, a fear that was entirely unknown to him. He could fracture the delicate bones of his own child if he held her too hard and so, he avoided mother and daughter, afraid that Moira would ask him to take her, to help put her to bed or to bathe her.

One night, he awoke to Aelia's crying and Moira's soft, whispered comforts. The tiny infant would not feed and Lanius moved to Moira's side, curling an arm around her as she began to struggle to cope with the relentless noise. Both watched with baited breath as he reached to gently wipe a tear from Aelia's cheek and his daughter stopped crying. Lanius withdrew his hand and she began again, so Moira suggested he try holding her, just for a little while, to see if she'd settle. He had her reassurances that everything would be fine. He wasn't so sure, but accepted the crying child as Moira carefully placed her in his arms.

At first, Lanius just held her, ensuring her head was supported. In her, he saw himself in almost every physical trait; her eyes, nose, lips, even her brows. He spoke softly to her Latin, stroking her cheek and after a moment, Aelia became a little more quiet. One miniature hand grasped the air and Lanius let her curl her fingers around one of his own. It was almost beyond comprehension that a human hand could be so small. His dwarfed hers and after a few minutes, she had stopped crying. Moira observed as he smiled for the first time she'd ever seen, still speaking words she did not understand, but she could tell by his tone that it was loving, soothing things he told his daughter. The week old child fell back to sleep shortly after and Lanius placed her in her crib, lingering a while to watch her rest.

After that, father and daughter were barely separated. The Legate cradled her often, kissing her forehead, smiling when she smiled and the happy little giggles brought something like joy to a long-disused heart, her tears almost breaking him.

Mostly, he spoke to her in Latin. Moira was convinced her first words were going to be something in barely coherent Latin. Not that she minded, she supposed. As she looked on the pair one morning, sipping her coffee and flipping through a copy of 'The Patriot's Cookbook', she couldn't help but laugh. Aelia was getting more talkative, a string of nonsense noises falling from her sweet little mouth and Lanius kissed her cheek, carrying her around on his hip as he so often did.

It may not have been the life he'd ever imagined living, but he was becoming used to it, oh-so-slowly. Still a butcher, but now a father, too.

Moira sat, watched them as she swallowed the dregs at the bottom of the mug, and wondered if they should have another. She'd put it to Lanius eventually. Now, she was perfectly content to let them enjoy their morning together as she read.


End file.
